


Hard Counter

by emissaryofrainbows



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ass Expansion, Belly Kink, Breast Expansion, Don't say I didn't warn you, F/F, Fart Fetish, Fart Inflation, Farting, Fetish, Inflation, Weirdness, expansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissaryofrainbows/pseuds/emissaryofrainbows
Summary: This story was done as a commissioned sequel to an earlier request called "Soft Counter" with some similar themes.Tracer and Widowmaker are both bloated with gas that causes their assets as well as the ones of anyone around them to expand whenever they release it. They use their powers against some of the other female fighters on the battlefield, before meeting for a private rendezvous with some absurdly large and gaseous results.
Relationships: Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Kudos: 11





	Hard Counter

"Cheers love!" Tracer said cheekily as she zipped by her opponent. Her newfound size did little to impede her mobility. So long as her chronal accelerator worked, she could still rush across the battlefield no matter how bloated she may have been. And Lena Oxton was bloated indeed, with an enormous, ballooning belly filled to the brim with farts, and a fat, wobbly ass that was eager to expel them.

The same couldn't be said for her enemy however, as Tracer released a cloud of the gas that had been building in her ballooning belly directly in her face as she rushed past her.

"Ugh, what the hell?" she coughed, as she was bombarded with the stinking cloud. She was told to prepare for anything from the Overwatch agents, but Talon hadn't prepared for her this kind of chemical warfare. Tracer's farts weren't just exceptional for their size and volume though, although her raspy eruption was plenty noisy and smelled bad enough to make the hardened female soldier dizzy. They had a body altering effect on anyone who inhaled them either, as the Talon soldier was about to discover. It was the same reason why Tracer had become so big in the first place, thanks to Widowmaker releasing her own cloud of expansive gas on her. The Talon foot soldier found her own body suddenly swelling up until she had a belly and butt of proportions that were nearly as exaggerated as Tracer's herself. Unlike Ms. Oxton, her outfit wasn't designed to contain a boulder sized belly or a butt like two beach balls, and so her outfit was torn up by her advancing form, leaving all of that newly expanded flesh totally exposed. At least her breasts went up by a cup size or two, but the Talon soldier wasn't really in the mood to look on the bright side of things at the moment. She cursed her opponent as she waddled after her, that humiliatingly bodacious butt bounding behind her with every step. All the added weight made it hard for her to move, and eventually she was left wheezing and exhausted as Tracer effortlessly blinked away from her, laughing to herself all the way as she searched for another another unsuspecting target to strike with a sudden butt bomb.

Tracer's gasceous assaults weren't just limited to her foes, however. Just because a girl was fighting for Tracer's team, didn't mean she'd be spared a whiff of Tracer's expansive flatulence.

Mercy was about to find this out the hard way. Tracer gave her a drive-by ass blasting, forcing out a fart right in Mercy's direction as she sprinted past her, belting out a half-hearted apology as she blinked away, leaving Mercy smothered in a suffocating cloud of the brit's gas. "Excuse me!" she said with a grin. "I guess it must've just slipped out," she added, as though she hadn't intentionally forced that fart out of her fat ass just to mess with her.

Mercy couldn't help but be fascinated as her body bloated before her, her breasts, stomach, and ass all swelling up at once with a sound like a balloon being filled with custard. This continued until she was left with F-cup breasts, a belly that looked like she was overdue with triplets, and an ass like two bowling balls had been shoved down the back of her panties.

"How fascinating. I should examine this more closely, for research purposes, of course," Mercy said, as she fondled her new assets with a lewd smile and the faint glistening dew of excited sweat on her forehead.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, Talon had a similar secret weapon of their own. Unlike Tracer, who was merely mischievous, Widowmaker downright delighted in the production and expulsion of her growth-causing gas. While she would sneak up on her enemies like a silent hunter, the moans she released while her bubble butt erupted right in their face was anything but subtle. That didn't matter though, as they'd already be helplessly swollen to the point of immobility, helpless to do anything as Widowmaker continued to bombard them with her gas for her own sick sexual satisfaction, until they quite literally couldn't become any bigger. Then she would swing away on her grappling hook, which was just barely strong enough to hold under her new added weight.

Hana Song happened to be Widow's most recent victim, and her MEKA wouldn't be enough to protect her from the Talon assassin's farts. For all the defenses her robotic suit had, airtightness wasn't one of them.

Widowmaker descended from a nearby building on her hook, managing to approach D.VA from behind without detection, despite sporting a big burgeoning belly, breasts that threatened to pop out of the top of her suit at any moment, and a fat ass that was almost twice as wide as the entire rest of her body with cheeks bigger than her own head.

Widowmaker was tempted to say something in the moments before she ambushed Hana, but she couldn't think of anything quite as concise as "one shot, one kill" to say about her inflation-inducing farts.

Instead, she let her ass do all the talking, aiming those plump purple cheeks right at her MEKA-clad foe, with mouth agape and a long, shamelessly sultry moan.

"Huh?" Hana said, as the sound of Widowmaker's lewd grunting echoed through her cockpit. "Ugh, what's that smell?" she pinched her nose shut, but it was already too late, and even then, it wasn't enough to shield her from the stink.

The odor wasn't Hana's only concern, as she looked down at her body only to see herself swelling up like an overfed tick. "What's happening?" she shrieked as her belly, breasts, and butt all expanded at an alarming rate from Widowmaker's body-altering gas. It was unlike anything Hana had ever felt before, and it didn't seem like it was about to stop any time soon! She watched as her belly grew to the size of a watermelon, until her breasts reached a similar size, and her stomach became even larger still. Finally the swelling began to taper off, but only after nearly every square inch of the MEKA's cock pit had D.VA's new soft, fatty flesh pressed up against it, rendering the MEKA useless as the girl inside of it was totally immobile.

Widowmaker cackled with satisfaction. There was nothing that felt quite as full to her as the feeling of profound fullness that came with being this inflated, besides the relief of releasing it all in one airy blast right at some unsuspecting opponent. She ran a hand along one of her own bloated ass cheeks, caressing it as though to congratulate it for serving her so well. Then, she swung away in search of another victim, and another excuse to indulge her love of passing gas.

The two flatulent female soldiers were both fleeing from their previous fart targets, and it just so happened that they were headed in the same direction, destined to collide in the middle of the battlefield.

And collide they did, quite literally. With neither of them paying as much attention to what was in front of them as they were planning out their next strike, they collided with one another, sending the two of them flying in opposite directions. Luckily, there was more than enough padding between the two of them to cushion the blow, and that very same padding was left to jiggle and wobble about lewdly within the confines of their respective skintight clothes from the impact.

"It's you!" Tracer said, quickly rising to her feet, her huge belly heaving with a deep digestive gurgle, and her ass cheeks bounding in her orange tights behind her. She raised her pistols, ready for a fight, although she definitely had another weapon in mind for Widowmaker.

"It seems we meet again," Widowmaker said, aiming her sniper rifle at Tracer as she glared down the scope. Frankly, it had been a while since Widowmaker had used it last, as her melon sized breasts made it nearly impossible to aim. Like Tracer, she had become accustomed to using her ass in combat almost exclusively.

"How about we put away these silly toys," she said, taking a rather huge risk by lowering her rifle. "And settle this in the way I know we'd both prefer." Tracer knew exactly what she meant, and despite her better judgement she chose to take her at her word, putting away her pistols.

"Fine then," Tracer said. "Girl to girl, and butt to butt, just like it's supposed to be."

Widowmaker cracked a smile. "I see you're still dealing with the changes I made to your body from the last time we encountered each other," she said. "I hope you're enjoying them as much as I am."

Tracer clasped a hand around one of her bloated buttocks which Widowmaker had been so generous as to provide her with her gas. "Well, I'll tell ya what," Tracer said, giving her ass a light, playful slap almost unconsciously and causing it to jiggle. This caught Widowmaker's attention, and once it did she found it hard to look away. "Too bad I can't say the same about my shirt," she added, clutching the side of her belly and jigging her beach ball belly with her hands, summoning some gassy gurgles from within.

Widowmaker was more infatuated with her opponent's form than ever, to the point where defeating her was the farthest thing from her mind.

"What do you say we put our conflict aside," Widowmaker said, her voice sultry and seductive even without the added benefit of a French accent. She approached Tracer, her bountiful breasts, bodacious booty and bloated belly all wobbling about as she did. Tracer's cheeks flushed. She knew that Widowmaker was vulnerable, that it was her duty as an Overwatch agent to take her in, but she was having trouble refusing Widowmaker's offer.

"Think of all the fun we could have," Widowmaker said. She got even closer, until her burbling belly was forced up against Tracer's, their fat, inflated guts squishing together and letting out a combined chorus of noisy gurgles.

Widowmaker traced her finger along the curved swell of Tracer's gut, feeling the delicate gurgles from within. "Well, what do you say?"

"Fine," Tracer finally said. She wasn't happy that her sex drive had triumphed over her dedication to the Overwatch organization, but part of her felt good to just give in to her temptations. "I'll just capture her afterwords," Tracer thought to herself, although she wasn't even sure if she believed it.

"Good," Widowmaker said, her half smile becoming a full one, a lewd grin now spread across her pretty purple face. "Now, I can feel all that gas bubbling up in that swollen belly of yours. Perhaps I could help it come out." Lena wasn't exactly sure what she meant, but she was damn curious to find out, so she agreed with a nod. "Good, good," Widowmaker said. She went from caressing Tracer's tummy with a single finger, to clasping the glorping orb in both her hands.

"So full of gas..." Widowmaker said, as her own fart-filled belly gurgled away against the other woman's gut. She applied just a bit of pressure into the swollen flesh, as she began to rub into the spherical stomach with her palms. "This will help push it out, I promise."

Frankly, Tracer couldn't care much if Widowmaker was being true to her word or not. The sensation of her admittedly chilly hands against her taut stomach was lovely enough on its own.

"It feels so good, releasing all that gas..." Widowmaker said. Tracer remained silent, save for the occasional whimper or moan that let Widowmaker know how much she was enjoying herself. "I would know. The relief, nothing can compare. I've found the size of my new body quite enjoyable too. I used to be disgusted by my new powers, but I've come to realize how much of a blessing they are. I can tell that you feel the same."

Tracer nodded, too awash with pleasure to form a proper sentence in reply. Instead, she simply allowed Widowmaker to continue, until the woman pressed on her belly just hard enough to push her over the edge, and to unleash all the gas that'd been bubbling up inside of her in one massive, earth shaking eruption.

"Oh la la," Widowmaker said, inhaling deeply and taking a long, deep breath of the other woman's intoxicating stink.

"O-oh!" was all Tracer could say as a veritable hurricane of flatulence erupted from her ass. Her belly deflated noticeably from the absence of gas, but it still remained plenty bloated without it. Meanwhile, Tracer's ass cheeks wobbled like a bowl of pudding in an earthquake, as they were jostled about by the force coming from the billowing hole between them. It was fortunate that Widowmaker and Tracer were in a secluded part of the battlefield, because Tracer's ass blast quickly caused the immediate area to be permeated with her stench. To anyone else, it would've been intolerable, but to Widowmaker, it was delectable, and she simply couldn't take enough. She took long, thorough whiffs, partly because of how much she adored the smell, and partly because she wanted as much of Tracer's gas in her system as possible, as the more she sniffed the bigger she would come as a result.

Widowmaker's plan worked exactly, and she found herself blowing up to a ridiculous size like a purple blimp. The parts of her body which were already bloated and bulging became even bigger, namely her breasts, belly, and butt. Her suit had been just barely enough to contain them before, but now her clothing didn't stand a chance, torn to shreds by boulder-sized butt cheeks, a belly as big as her body, and breasts that were also really, really big. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, a strand of drool falling onto the concrete.

Meanwhile, Tracer was experiencing some growth of her own. Her fat, orange clad ass swelled each second that ferocious fart roared out of her, until each cheek was big enough to dwarf the entire rest of her body. The feeling was incomparably euphoric. As her butt grew larger, it became more sensitive, as the warm tingle spread over the ever-increasing surface area of her rump.

Letting a huge fart rip had always felt pretty good for Tracer, but it'd never been this good before, never given her orgasmic pleasure. It'd always just been a pleasant feeling of relief, that she didn't revel in like Widowmaker did. But now she got it, why Widowmaker's every fart was accompanied by a sexual moan. Ironically, it was Widowmaker who came to her senses before Tracer did, once that monster of an initial fart started to taper off, even if the sound of it still echoed and the smell still lingered in the air. Widowmaker was still obscenely bloated and high off of the reeking ass fumes, but she was at least lucid enough to make her way over to Tracer, even if her breasts, butt, and belly, which weighed in excess of one hundred pounds a piece made it difficult for her to move. It wasn't as if Tracer was going anywhere though, as she stared off into the distance in a blissful, lewd daze, sitting atop her own fattened ass like a bean bag chair.

Widowmaker couldn't help but feel a bit jealous, as Tracer's ass was a good deal bigger than hers, but at least her lavender breasts and belly had her beat. Perhaps another round of asset expanding flatulence would be enough to even the score. There was only one way to find out, and Widowmaker definitely intended to test it, pressing herself up against Tracer as much as their tits and tummies would allow.

"Not bad," Widowmaker said. "I'm quite impressed, and it seems like you made some rather..." she traced her hand over the swell of her newly bloated belly, starting at the bottom and going upwards towards her breasts, which she cupped and squeezed in her hand. "Nice improvements to our bodies. I suppose that means it's my turn. I can't wait to see how much bigger we can get."

Tracer nodded in agreement dizzily, still not quite over the overwhelming wave of pleasure that'd washed over her just a few minutes ago. "Excellent. I've had one brewing up for quite a while, ever since you started to release yours. It feels like a big one too...but first, there's something else I want to do."

Widowmaker brought Tracer into an embrace, or at least she tried, as she had some difficulty getting her hands all the way around the other girl's bloated form. This was enough to snap her out of her daze, or to at least get her to a point where she was able to speak again. She responded to Widowmaker's gesture by wrapping her arms around her in turn, and the two girls pulled each other as close as they possibly could, with their fat, sloshing breasts and bellies squishing up against one another, making their bodies quake with their combined gurgling.

With the soldiers as close as they could be, Widowmaker leaned in for a kiss, which Tracer gladly accepted. They kissed, the sound of their moans and wet smooching gradually being drained out by the gurgling of Widowmaker's tummy. It seemed like that fart which she'd talked about earlier was aching to come out, and Widowmaker was just about ready to let it. As much as she was enjoying their current size, she knew that her pleasure would grow along with her body.

Widowmaker didn't bother asking if Tracer was prepared. Right now she was as ready as she'd ever be. With a prolonged, pleasured "Aaaaaaaaaah," Widowmaker finally let slip the fart that had been boiling away in her bowels, and oh what a fart it was. It might not have been so huge, had Tracer's own gas not expanded her beforehand, so in a way she had herself to thank for the lovely release she would now get to enjoy.

The closest point of comparison to the sound of the fart Widowmaker unleashed was a tornado being forced out through a trumpet, but even that wouldn't quite do justice to just how loud and bassy was. Even though Tracer and Widowmaker had gone out of their way to seclude themselves, just about everyone in the battlefield could hear the assassin's ass blast, and what's more they could feel it too, the aftershocks reverberating through their body and causing the ground beneath them to tremble and quake.

The force was so immense that it created a mini windstorm in the surrounding area, causing scattered debris to flutter in the stinking breeze, cracking a few windows, and causing several car alarms to go off. The smell was even more indescribable, and caused both women's senses to be overwhelmed as they deepened their kiss and tightened their mutual embrace. It was becoming harder and harder for the women to hold on to each other though, as Widowmaker's thunderous fart caused their bellies to bloat, and their breasts to swell against one another. Still, they made use of the space they still had to grope each other's newly expanded bodies, to feel their expanding assets as they swelled beneath their fingers.

Their senses were overwhelmed by an incomparable ocean of pleasure and a mind bending smell, as they grew bigger and bigger in each other's embrace. As they moaned with delight, they both completely lost track of where they were, or just how big they had gotten. The only thing they knew is that they were huge, and that they couldn't wait to get even bigger.

As Widowmaker's booming butt blast finally tapered off, only the sounds of their moaning and their wet slurping kisses remained, as well as the echoing rips as their last clinging tatters of clothing finally gave in. The girls were made a bit more lucid now that they were no longer being overwhelmed by releasing and smelling such a profoundly powerful fart respectively, at least, enough that they could take a step back and observe just how big they had finally gotten.

While the girls had teetered on the edge of immobility, Widowmaker's final fart had pushed them over the line. The weight of their bellies, breasts, and booties kept them held in place, though they could care less. It's not like they had anywhere they'd rather be. Though they weren't perfectly spherical, their gas bloated balloon bellies now made up more of their mass than any other part of their body, each one just about as large as a dump truck and equally filled with an abundance of putrid gas. Their breasts and butts were nothing to scoff at either, though. Their chests (which were still pressed up together, as the two girls lustily rubbed against the other's stiffened nipples with their own) were so huge that they could no longer be measured with an alphabetical cup size, nor compared to any fruit that exists in nature. The only thing they could be likened to was the size of their bodies before all of this had started, for their tits were now about as big as those had been.

Lastly was their butts, which could also only be properly described in terms of large motor vehicles, their blimped-up butts ready to release more earth-shaking, body expanding toots at a moment's notice.

Tracer and Widowmaker got as close as their bodies would allow, continuing their kiss and using their hands to explore every inch of their new bodies.

Meanwhile, everyone else on the battlefield had left hours ago, as the point had already been captured and the victor already decided. Neither Tracer nor Widowmaker were aware of this fact, nor would they have particularly cared if they did. In fact, they might've even appreciated the privacy, as they groaned and groped each other's enormous gassy bodies.


End file.
